


Sick Days

by MianMimi



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, TAO being a mom, heimdall/TAO if you squint, mother's day fic, strordo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 15:23:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10924626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MianMimi/pseuds/MianMimi
Summary: Mordo's worked himself sick and TAO gives him some motherly advice while tending to him. Just a fluffy, belated Mother's Day fic.





	Sick Days

**Author's Note:**

> Totally not beta read so all the grammar and spelling mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Happy Belated Mother’s Day! Since TAO being Mordo’s adoptive mom seems to make this little fandom happy, here’s a bit of fluff to hopefully lighten the day :)

Master Mordo simply didn’t get ill. Of course not. Like most things about the man, being ill was a complicated matter. For him falling ill was a tedious and drawn out process, most of which involved him denying he was even sick at all. He was a sturdy man, built of far stronger stuff than most people would assume at first glance. He was as steadfast and stubborn as the earth. No wind could cast him away, no sun could drive him from his post, and no storm could waver his resolve.

Yet for all his fortitude, here he was, wrapped in blankets and sneezing in between sniffles. He shivered all around, drawing in breath between his dry lips. Fat pillows puffed gently beneath his weary head. The heavy ache deep inside his forehead crawled to his temples and settled behind his eyes in a painful roll. With his body in complete rebellious shutdown, he felt as helpless as a child. 

He was never allowed this level of comfort in the worst bouts of childhood illness. His grandfather demanded he continue on his training, whether he be at the peak of health or on the brink of fainting. Excellence had no exceptions and knew no excuses. And no one in Krowler’s family would be anything less than excellent. So he was pushed. Always pushed to be stronger, tougher, showing little mercy towards others and sparing none at all for himself. 

He was grateful those days were behind him. Truly he was. Yet he couldn’t help but take a piece of that twisted mindset with him. There was no time for rest. No reason good enough to warrant him a day to just lay down and allow the fever to roll off. He had duties to attend to, students to teach, missions to run, and shields to uphold. 

“I hope this serves as a lesson Master Mordo,” The Sorceress Supreme said as she dipped another washcloth into a basin of water, “To wear the long sleeved shirts when it’s cold outside rather than insisting on those thin sleeveless ones.”. 

“Didn’t have-” Mordo took a deep breath before he continued, “Long sleeves.”

“Really?” The Ancient One hummed softly, amused by his attempt to lie. “I know for a fact there’s plenty of warm clothes ready for you, for any conceivable weather or occasion. Always freshly laundered, pressed, and folded. I make certain of it myself.”

She wrung the water from the cloth, folded it, and laid it across her student’s burning forehead.

““You should pick your excuses better than you pick your clothes. Next time wear the long sleeves.” 

He shuddered as the cloth touched his head. It felt good though, easing him enough so he could argue.

“Didn’t want to wear it,” Mordo mumbled, “Twas...not appealing.”

“Not appealing?” The Ancient One’s soft, ethereal voice lifted with mischief, “Now just who were you trying to impress? 

She asked in way that showed she already knew the answer. The corner of her lips turned up, her eyes wide and bright as she watched him stammer.

“Not..not trying to impress. I--I just-” Mordo muttered into the blankets, “I just don’t like those particular shirts!”

“Very well then,” She tucked the blanket beneath his chin. “Far be it from me to tell a grown man how to properly dress.”

Part of him couldn’t believe they were actually having this conversation. There were infinitely more important matters to discuss. The other part however, wasn’t surprised at all. They were alone. And it was only then that the usually aloof sorceress revealed a peculiar level of kindness.

Mordo’s face scrunched up. He sneezed heavily, turning his face against the pillow. He really wanted to just keep his face buried there, if anything to escape from his mentor’s amused smirk.

“You poor dear,” She took his hand and swept a washcloth over it before he could protest. “You’ve been overworking yourself.”

It was a mild understatement. Mordo rejected idleness. For him every moment needed a purpose. 

“Teaching your regular classes, wandering around Kathmandu making sure the protection spells are intact every single day when you know they’re good for a week,” The Sorceress Supreme sighed, “And then tutoring Strange during what little time you can spare?”

“You’ve seen him,” Mordo replied, “He needs it-”

“Like he needs the food you’ve been giving him at the expense of your own health?” 

She waited for his answer as she continued to sweep the cloth over his aching fingers. He could feel immense, tangible heat rolling down and off his fingertips, as if she was pulling the fever out of him with each motion. 

“You’ve seen him. Too..skinny,” Mordo sniffled and groaned. He turned his heavy eyes towards her. “Needs it more than me.”

“Generosity is a noble thing but don’t let it starve you,” The Ancient One scolded him gently, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’re not eating as well as you used to. Meanwhile Stephen seems to have nearly double portions of every meal.”

Mordo coughed into the sheets again. When he looked up there was a cup of water waiting for him. She helped him sit up high enough for him to drink properly without it spilling, tipping the cup til he was finished. She replaced the old pillows, which had flattened beneath his weight and stunk of sweat, with fresh plump ones before easing him back down to rest. The washcloth on his forehead was also replaced. He wondered if there was some magic in the water lifting the headache from him. 

He sneezed into the sheets again only to be lightly reprimanded.

“Use this,” She shoved a handful of tissues in his hand. Mordo wasn’t sure why she did that since she already had a wad of tissues on his nose. He sneezed hard without meaning to and sunk back into the bed from embarrassment as she wiped his snot away.

He watched her work, mindfully living in a moment so few were blessed to see. She had her own way of caring for others, it was expected of course, for she was the Supreme. And as Sorceress Supreme she had the immense responsibility to protect the world. 

But this was different. This was messy and undignified. This was less about protecting and more about nurturing. And it all seemed so effortless to her…

Mordo thought of his birth mother for a second then pushed her memory away. He couldn’t see her doing this for him. She never could. She never will. Still it hurt to know how little she cared for his comfort, only concerning herself with how useful he could be. He was just another ingredient for a recipe, another line in a spell, another weapon to use…

He feared that was all he would ever be. It was the greatest relief in his life, when he learned he could be much more than what his birth family intended him to be, that he could find a purpose of his own choosing rather than follow their twisted plans for him. And he knew it was due to the Ancient One’s patience and guidance that he was at last, free. 

He owed her his life, his magic, everything that he could possibly call his own. He was infinitely indebted to her. There was nothing he could offer that would ever equal what she did for his sake. But the most puzzling part of all was that she never asked for anything in return. 

Even in those instances where his stubbornness irked her, and his old rebellious nature flared, she was constantly forgiving of him. Consequences came of course, with his poor choices, and the scars on his body proved it. Yet she was there when he returned home from his battles, bloody and bruised, to wash the blood away and tend to his wounds. 

There was one occasion when he returned home on a litter, unconscious, bleeding profusely, gripping onto life by a thread. He couldn’t recall who he had fought, what attacked him, or even how exactly he ended up back in Kamar Taj. He only knew what he was told. And he was told that after she healed him, she went back to finish what he started. There was little else spoken about what she did, other than his assailant was obliterated to the point where their miserable, cruel soul burned away in her hands. He heard that she was never more terrifying to look at than the moment she returned, when she hesitated to enter the healing rooms for fear that he was dead.

And even after that he still managed to be reckless. Yet in spite of it, she never gave him a reason to feel unsafe. It was a wonderful, unconditional quality about her. He hoped to inherit it one day. 

His thoughts were pulled back to the present. The Ancient One’s hand cupped the top of his head and brushed his sweat-soaked hair. Her simple gesture held more kindness and affection than any touch his birth mother ever spared for him.

He closed his eyes briefly and moved to his side. He rested the right side of his head on the pillows. Thin tears seeped out from his heavy eyes. 

“You barely get any sleep, throwing yourself into impromptu missions that lead you every which way. Then you return home, exhausted and hungry only for your to stay up all night because Stephen was having night terrors.”

Stephen again. She was still fixated on him, or rather his effect on Mordo.

Mordo didn’t have the strength to lie anymore so he did the next best thing and simply refused to reply. Besides, she was right and she knew it. Arguing with her was futile.

“Karl?” The Ancient One’s face softened, her eyes deep with worry.

Hearing his first name had the same effect on him that most children felt when addressed by their full names.

“Karl...you’re far too invested in Stephen for me to turn a blind eye to it.”

Mordo sat up, wiping his eyes til they stung even more. 

“It has taken a toll on you and that is something I will not ignore,” Her voice remained gentle. 

She knelt by his beside, took his hand, and simply held it. 

“It isn’t wise to neglect yourself for another’s sake. Nor is it wise to lie to your own heart-”

“What are you trying to teach me?” Karl asked. He gulped, afraid that she would forbid him from seeing Stephen again. He didn’t know if he could honor that order. He couldn’t fathom it. 

“That love makes fools of us all,” The Ancient One answered, “And to my surprise and relief, even you’re no exception.”

“I’m not in love with Stephen.” Karl spoke before he could think, a rarity for him, but he was so tired weary, and panicked that the words escaped. 

“I never said anything about you being in love. Never said anything about Stephen either. But you don’t have to for me to know-”

“It’s not--it’s not what you think--”

“Pursue him before the chance escapes.”

The Ancient One squeezed his hand then let go. 

It was not what Mordo expected to hear, not at all. He also didn’t expect for her own eyes, usually so certain and confident, to water. There was a tremble in her lips, a slight waver in her voice.

“I don’t wish for you to lose a chance at happiness. Not when he’s just a headlock away.”

Mordo couldn’t help but nervously laugh at that. It didn’t ease his fear of the risk he’ll have to take if he ever made his feelings known to the man.

“Stephen will never see me that way. He hasn’t shown interest,” Mordo shook his head. He couldn’t hope for anything more than friendship from someone so seemingly blind to his efforts. 

“You surprise me Karl. It isn’t in your nature to embrace defeat so easily,” The Ancient One said, “This isn’t a battle for you to torment yourself over. It’s only love. And it’s very real.”

The concept was more intimidating, more frightening than anything else Mordo ever fought before. 

“You--you speak as if you’ve been there before--” Mordo said, hoping that the conversation would end there. Her past was a sensitive issue that usually guaranteed the death of a topic and the beginning of a new one. 

She surprised him again. 

“Yes, once.” She said, sadness heavy in her words, “But he’s committed to his world as their gatekeeper. I’m committed to mine as Sorceress Supreme. You do not have that burden. You have the blessing of being beneath the same sky as Stephen.”

Mordo was speechless as he watched a single tear slip down her face. 

“Do not take it for granted.”

Another tear fell, followed by another. She made no sound, no gasp or sob, or anything that gave away her pain. Yet Karl felt it like a tangible entity haunting the room. He wondered if she grieved alone, and felt helpless at this sudden remainder of her humanity. 

He remembered the clean tissues from earlier. Not knowing what else to do he offered them to her. She laughed, the last of her silent tears bursting from her eyes. She thanked him and wiped the tears away until she was appeared as she always did, pristine, perfect, and unbreakable.

“When you first came here you were a broken young man, so violent and reckless, full of turmoil and rage. I wished you peace,” The Ancient One continued, “Did you find it?”

Mordo sensed that she already knew the answer.

“Yes.”

“Now I also wish you happiness.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Umm? Hello? Can I come in?” 

Mordo’s face dropped along with his heart at the sound of that voice.

“It appears my wish has been granted,” She pat the side of Karl’s face, smiled, rose up to her feet, and answered the door.

Stephen stood there with fresh towels hanging over his arms. 

“Perfect timing Mr.Strange,” She ushered him in, “We were beginning to run out.”

“Isn’t there a spell you could use for this?” Stephen asked, “Not to be rude but I’m just, ya know, curious.”

“Mr.Strange, you can’t expect to use magic for anything. Especially for basic errands. When Master Mordo first arrived here I had him perform every chore in the compound without the use of any spells.”

“Jesus man, what did you do?” Stephen laughed softly. He glanced at the sorceress then at Mordo, as if asking permission to approach. She nodded her bald head and gestures for Stephen to sit down at the bedside.

“Perhaps he can tell you all about his wilder days while you accompany him this evening.”

“But he--” Mordo started to object only to find her fan snapping in the air.

“I’m afraid he’ll have to. I refuse to leave you by yourself, and seeing as I have important business to discuss with the other Masters I’ll have to appoint Stephen here,” She tapped the doctor’s arms lightly with her fan, “As your nurse until I return.”

“I’m a doctor,”

“All the better then,” The Ancient One replied. “I really must go. Master Mordo’s responsibilities must be split among the other Masters until he recovers-”

“What? No!” Mordo coughed loudly as he tried to get off the bed. Stephen instinctively placed a hand on Mordo’s chest to keep him from going. As if hit with a spell, Mordo fell back with a defeated groan.

“You may resume your duties after you recover,” The Sorceress Supreme said. She motioned her hand towards Stephen, “And next time you go brooding around Kathmandu to keep those shields in place I insist that you take Stephen with you.”

“But he--”

“He needs to learn those spells to keep Kamar Taj safe. There’s no better teacher than you. Also, I don’t want you going out there alone.”

“Umm, is that necessary? He can clearly protect himself,” Stephen spoke up, sensing Mordo’s discomfort at the thought of spending time with him, “He beat the crap out of three thugs. He doesn’t need me.”

“And I’m sure he’ll do so again if the need arises.” The Ancient One said, “I don’t doubt his abilities to defend himself or you, Stephen Strange. He may not need you but it won’t hurt to have some company. And the two of you seem to prefer each other’s company over anyone else, if your sparring sessions are anything to go by.”

Both men looked at each other. A slight pink tinge blossomed across Stephen’s face. Mordo smiled between his coughs, though he attempted to hide it. 

The Sorceress Supreme merely sighed, content with her part. Now it was up to them. She had a feeling they would need some help to get there, given the intensity of their personalities and the depth of their fears. 

But as she watched Mordo smiling at the sight of Stephen, she felt her own heart melt. She made up her mind to ensure that smile remained there. And may the gods help Stephen if he did anything to twist the smile off Mordo’s face. 

“I’ll take my leave. Stephen, take care of him. I will know if you don’t.” She spoke the words with levity as she headed for the door. Stephen’s face paled at the thought. Mordo tapped his shaking hands.

“She won’t do anything to you. I promise.” 

Stephen nodded, though his face was still weary. 

“Thank you,” 

The Sorceress Supreme turned as Mordo sat up.

“Thank you…” Mordo said again. His eyes were bright with gratitude and love. “Anya…”

“Anytime Karl,” She held his gaze for a moment, returning the familial warmth. Then she left, the door shutting quietly behind her.

“Wait, so her actual name is Anya?” Stephen shrugged with a slight turn of his head, “Doesn’t really suit her. I was expecting something more...ancient--tee…”

“It suits her very well.” Mordo said, “And it isn’t a name.”

“Oh...another title then?” Stephen asked.

“Of sorts.” Mordo smiled as he answered, “It means mother.”

A/N: Hope that wasn’t too ooc. It’s the Mother’s Day feels.


End file.
